


ephemeris

by illusorx



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Marking, Married Sex, Possessive Behavior, Power Bottom George, Smut, Wedding Rings, but it’s really tender i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illusorx/pseuds/illusorx
Summary: George has his left hand wrapped around Clay’s throat. His fingers are digging into the muscle of his neck while his palm pushes against the younger man’s windpipe. The metal of George’s wedding band is cold against Clay’s flushed and sensitive skin. George is only applying a moderate amount of pressure, for now. Just enough so that when Clay pants, the air leaves him with a rattle.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 486





	ephemeris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [georgenapity (cleopatraslibrary)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleopatraslibrary/gifts).



> happy dreamnotfound friday :)
> 
> for lex.
> 
> thanks to arctic and ella.

Years ago, alone in the late darkness of his bedroom, Clay got off to fantasies where he imagined what the pads of George’s fingertips might feel like. He’s told George about those fantasies, now, whispered the details into discord calls, tucked between confessions. Clay opened his heart up for George, pulled up the latch on the gate and led him through the halls of his desires. George knows what Clay dreams about.

He’s loved George’s hands for years. He has long, slender fingers, and the skin on the inside of his wrists are pale and soft. Clay thinks George is perfect.

\---

George moves to Florida, stealing away the right side of Clay’s bed. Clay kisses the veins on the inside of George’s wrists, and he sinks his teeth into the heel of his palms.

George feels the heat of Clay’s reverence in every touch he receives from him. It scares George at first, the intensity of the affection. He learns very fast that this is how Clay communicates. Clay traces shapes over the back of George’s hands and scratches his fingers through George’s hair, and George hears _I love you_ every time.

\---

George visits his family and brings home a ring. He gives it to Clay on an otherwise unceremonious night, seated comfortably on the couch in the living room. The lights are dim, and there’s a shitty action movie playing on the TV, the volume low. The two of them are signing paperwork in a courthouse less than a month later. When they return home, Clay presses his lips into the intersection of George’s ring finger and palm, tasting sweat and the metal of his wedding band.

\---

George has things he likes, too. He likes being in charge, primarily. Clay is more than okay with this. 

George gets off on leaving his mark on Clay. George keeps his nails trimmed and clean, but always long enough to leave dark red crescents on Clay’s back as well as his wrists and in the soft dips of his hips. George leaves bruises so he can push into them later; He presses his thumb into Clay’s thigh under the table when they have dinner with his parents, and he grazes his teeth over healing yellow patches on his neck.

\---

Tonight, George is riding Clay in their bedroom.

They’re face to face, with Clay leaning back into the headboard. Their soft pillows have been pushed aside. George’s feet are planted firm into the mattress, twisting their fitted sheet.

George has his left hand wrapped around Clay’s throat. His fingers are digging into the muscle of his neck while his palm pushes against the younger man’s windpipe. The metal of George’s wedding band is cold against Clay’s flushed and sensitive skin. George is only applying a moderate amount of pressure, for now. Just enough so that when Clay pants, the air leaves him with a rattle.

This is one of George’s favorite positions. It’s so easy, from his spot in Clay’s lap, to pull the strings. He sets the pace, and moves when he wants. George looks into Clay’s eyes and pushes his thumb _hard_ into the soft spot behind Clay’s ear. He feels Clay’s pulse flutter, there, and his own cock throbs in sympathy. He grinds back down onto Clay’s cock, enjoying the sensation of fullness.

Clay brings his own right hand up to rest over George's left, letting his thumb brush over the band. He watches as George’s face breaks into a soft smile in recognition of the tender gesture. Clay twitches his hips up, pushing further into George’s heat. They both inhale, sharp, at the movement. George’s smile shifts into one that Clay recognizes as mischievous.

George tightens his grip on Clay’s neck and clenches around his cock.

Clay lets out a sudden moan, voice choked and wet. His hand moves to close around George’s wrist, and he feels the muscle of George’s forearm flex under his grasp. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as his mind grapples with the firing nerves. George’s gaze catches, transfixed by the sight of Clay’s large hand wrapped around his own small wrist.

Clay takes a labored breath and opens his eyes. George watches his face closely so he can see his pupils dilate further, fighting out the bright green ring of his irises. Clay swallows at the focused attention and George feels it happen under his wide palms.

George pushes himself up slowly, letting himself _feel_ the drag of Clay’s cock against him. His legs burn a little, with the effort of it. His brain is on fire. He slides back down, and, this time, the angle is perfect. He feels Clay’s head rub against his prostate. The sensation of it runs through him like wildfire, reaching and burning through to his toes and the tips of his fingers. He grinds his hips down into Clay’s, chasing his pleasure again.

George plants his free hand on Clay’s chest, as he flexes his fingers and bites his nails into the soft skin there. Clay’s breath catches in pain , and it makes a loud strangled sound in his throat.

George drags his nails down Clay’s chest, watching the angry red lines that appear in his wake. He licks his lips and digs his nails into the side of Clay’s neck, too, for the fun of it.

George feels his orgasm building up inside him. He pushes himself back up, almost off of Clay’s cock entirely, before dropping back down forcefully. When he feels himself flush against Clay’s pelvis, he grinds out small circles, trying to fill himself up as much as he can. Clay tilts his hips up to meet his movements and it feels _so fucking good_.

“You feel-,” George starts, and then stops to pant an exhale. “You feel so fucking _good_.” His eyes slip shut and his face screws up. George's rim is stretched tight around the base of Clay's dick, aching sweetly. There is nowhere else in the world that he would rather be.

Clay is close, too, though. They can both tell. There’s that feeling, piling up low in Clay’s stomach, like sand falling through to the bottom of an hourglass. George feels Clay’s grip drop from his wrist, and then he feels the muscles of his jaw relax under his fingers. Clay’s face goes almost completely slack, eyes closed, and George stills. He loosens his grip on Clay's neck considerably, but doesn’t remove his hand.

George takes in a shaky breath before speaking. “Do you want to come now, or do you want to wait?”

Clay opens his eyes and blinks, languid, looking up at George’s face.

”What do you think?” His voice is low and gravelly, and he sounds absolutely fucked. George resists the urge to tease him further, for now, to see how wrecked he could get tonight.

”I _think_ you know I want to hear you say it,” George says with a sly smile, leaning down to Clay’s level, their breath mingling in the space between them.

Clay huffs, indignant, but he pushes himself up into George nonetheless. Their lips brush against each other when he speaks. “Now.”

”And what do you say, when you want to come?”

Clay rolls his eyes, but he’s still inside George to the hilt. George can _feel it_ when Clay’s dick twitches. His eyes are still blown out with arousal, and his voice is still low. “Please, George.”

Warmth blooms in George’s chest. He smiles again, and gently brings his right hand to Clay’s cheek. He brushes his thumb over Clay’s bottom lip. Clay captures George’s fingertip lightly between his front teeth, and he looks at George through his eyelashes. George's own erection leaks against his stomach at the sight, and he stares. He takes a mental picture and files it away for later.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, finally. He squeezes on Clay’s neck again, feeling the muscles jump for a moment, and then not letting up on the pressure.

George pulls himself up off of Clay about halfway. His rim flutters involuntarily, shocked with the sudden movement after the time spent still. Any tension left in Clay’s face drops, and his mouth falls open. George fucks himself back down onto Clay’s length. He leans the rest of the way forward, slotting his own open mouth against Clay’s in something that resembles a kiss. George presses his thumb into the spot where Clay’s jaw meets his ear and licks into the other man’s mouth. Clay lets him.

George rocks himself back into Clay, stimulating his own prostate, and Clay’s hips buck up under him. After a minute of this, George feels Clay’s thighs begin to shake where the two of them are pressed together.

George feels Clay take in a couple particularly sharp breaths. He presses his thumb into the side of Clay’s windpipe.

”You can come whenever you’re ready, baby,” George whispers into Clay’s mouth.

Clay’s hands tighten on George’s hips when he comes inside of him. His orgasm floods through his chest like a cascade of warm water. He pants, heavy and erratic, into George’s mouth. Every noise he makes filters through the pressure on his neck into a choked mess. George tastes the backs of Clay’s teeth and rides him through it.

It doesn't take Clay very long to emerge from the haze of his orgasm. George feels Clay go soft, and he pulls away to lift himself up and off. When their lips reconnect, the movement of Clay's mouth becomes more intentional. He wraps his hand around George's leaking cock and George gasps.

"Wait-" he starts. Clay pulls his hand away and looks at him, still blinking slow but with clear eyes. His hair is frizzy and matted in places, and his neck is littered with dark red crescents. George thinks he looks gorgeous.

"Can I-" he tries again. "Don't laugh at this, okay?" He's still breathing heavy, his body wanting him to chase release.

Clay laughs, of course. George pinches his bicep as punishment.

"Whatever," George huffs. "Can I come on your face?," he says finally, in a bit of a rush. He feels his face grow hot, a little, with the words.

Clay smiles bright and laughs again. George pouts.

"Of course you can. Where do you want me?," Clay says easily. George smiles back at him.

"Um," he thinks, "on the floor, I guess. On your knees in front of me."

"Okay," Clay says.

The two of them move to reposition. George swings his legs over the side of the bed, feet touching the floor. He rests his hands on the comforter beside him. Clay kneels down on the carpet, leaning back on his heels, head between George's knees. Clay rests his left hand on George's thigh as he wraps his right hand around the curved, hot line of George's dick and pulls. Clay looks up at George, watching the pleasure dance across his husband's face.

"You were amazing, Georgie," he says, earnest. His voice is still a little hoarse. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of George's knee. Clay squeezes the hand around his dick and listens as a moan rumbles out from George's chest.

Clay watches the tendons in George’s hand flex in the comforter. He hears him suck a breath in through his teeth.

“Clay,” he breathes out, “I’m really fucking close already.”

Clay wheezes out a short laugh. “Dick game too strong?”

George scoffs and rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “Like _you_ did any of the hard work.”

“Ouch, but- I guess that’s fair.” Clay reaches his left hand towards George, palm facing forward. George laces their fingers together and squeezes.

Clay leans far forward, off his heels now, to press his nose into the soft skin and dark hair between George’s legs. He smells like sweat and wild lavender. Clay uses his right hand to pump the base of George’s dick while he presses kisses into the sensitive skin.

It’s not long before George tangles his left hand into Clay’s hair and pulls. Clay winces, mostly out of surprise, but he lets George guide his head where he wants him.

George lets go of Clay’s hand to jerk himself off, and Clay watches for a moment, just to see how he does it. Clay intercepts George’s wrist and pulls his hand away, just to replace it with his own. He continues where George left off, copying the movements he observed moments ago. _Slow and tight_ , he thinks.

Clay looks up at George through his eyelashes. He knows what he looks like, with flushed cheeks, George’s hand pulling his hair taught, and healing bruises on his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he says, hushed. “I’m yours. I’ve got you.”

George reaches his orgasm with a moan from high in his throat. Clay keeps moving his hand; He closes his eyes and lets come drip onto his face, across his right cheekbone and the bridge of his nose. He opens his eyes to watch George’s chest heave in the aftershock. George’s hand in his hair finally relaxes. Clay stands up and sits next to George on the side of the bed. George smiles up at him.

George reaches his left hand up to cup the clean side of Clay’s face. He leans up to plant a kiss on Clay’s opposite cheek, tasting himself and the salt of Clay’s skin. Clay rests his hand on top of George’s for a moment. He turns his face into the soft palm, pressing an extended kiss into the heel of it. 

Clay thinks back to the courthouse. It smelled of mildew and the lights inside were tinted yellow. Clay presses a kiss to the gold band around George’s ring finger.

Clay’s thumb draws small shapes on the flat surface of George’s hand. George kisses Clay’s forehead. His lips brush his hairline when he says, there, into his skin,

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated!! follow me on twt [@illusorx](https://www.twitter.com/illusorx)


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